Second Chance
By Colleen M. Criswell

I had a miscarriage on my birthday, 1998.  We had only been married a short time, nine months to be exact.  The ultrasound had shown a deformed egg sac, the shape of it was very possibly twins, according to my doctors.  I cried for a week.

Not long after that, I went to my aunt and she and I talked.  I have found speaking about  it always helps scab over those wounds you know will never fully heal.  I told her about the possibility that I had lost two children, not one.

"That makes sense," she said to me, "you had twin brothers."

I sat there in shock.  Twin brothers?  I shook my head, she had to be mistaken.  I was adopted when I was almost two years of age.  I remember that I always felt I was missing something.  At the tender age of ten I asked my parents if I had any brothers or sisters.  "No," my mother told me, "you were always an only child."  The memory sat like a stone in my stomach.  I had brothers, somewhere, I had brothers.  I let that sink in as I went to my job at the theatre.  I sat and pondered the situation, yet none of it added up.  So, I did the only thing I could do, which was call my mother and confront her about it.

She explained that yes, I did have two older brothers, biologically, however she had thought they both had died.  She wouldn't explain why she hadn't told me before, tho I suspect it was simply due to the fact that she was trying to protect me in some way.  She didn't know much else about it, the only person who might was the foster mother I lived with for the year I was with out a name.  I stewed on this while my day progressed slowly in the box office and when I got home I called the woman who I had lovingly called Nanny all of these years.  Nanny was a sweet woman, she and her first husband, who I called Pop-pop, had lived on a farm in Illinois.  I would go back to visit every summer until I had turned ten and my parents moved out of state.  I hadn't seen her since my wedding, and i felt bad for not keeping in touch with her, but I was determined to find out all I could.

The conversation with her was short.  She didn't want to tell me anything.  Just like my mother, trying to protect me from some unseen enemy.  I finally got her to tell me.  I did indeed have two older brothers.  "The oldest had rickets very badly and the other one was also handicapped," she explained, "that is all I am willing to tell you, other than I believe they went to the same home and they are alive."

"That is all you know?" I asked hoping to get more out of the woman.

"No," she sighed, "but you look like her."

"Like who?"

"Mary," she sounded like she was confessing, "that was your name too, Mary Alice.  You look like her."

She then proceeded to tell me how horrible this woman was, the details were horrible to here.  We were found by social services, she told me.  The oldest boy was about four and running around naked.  I was in a play pen that was turned over like a cage, a rock on top of it, I was three months old and had lost over half my body weight.  My middle brother was attached to the play pen by a belt that was tied to his leg.  Mary and her nameless husband were gone for the day.

That was all Nanny would tell me about that.  However she then said she had cancer and would die with in the week.  She stayed true to her word.  She left this world and took with it any answers I had hoped to find.  So, I did what I always do.  I went to my aunt again and told her what I had found out.  That I had no way of finding any more information out, I didn't have a last name to go by or what my brother's names were or anything. "Hallesy," she announced like the Amazing Kreskin. I asked her how she knew this and she told me that my mother had told her once.

Straight to my computer I did run.  I searched high and low.  I knew my place of birth, my date of birth.  I hit every web site known to man and a few that few knew existed.  All I needed now was Robert Stack and maybe he could help me through my unsolved mystery.

On the day of our first anniversary I received an e-mail.  It was a doctor who lived in the town I was born.  He had read my story on a forum board he visited and wanted to help me out.  He refused to give me his name, but he did send me a copy of my birth announcement, the names of the biological parents and a phone number.

I sat, uncertain what to do next.  I had a phone number of someone who might hold the answers to what I seek.  I was not sure what I wanted to do, how to proceed.  So, I decided to just make the phone call.  An elderly man answered the phone.  I explained who I am, who I was and asked if he knew the people I was searching for.  The man broke down in tears, he couldn't speak.  A woman got on the phone and I relayed my story again.  Yes, that was her son and her daughter in-law.  She was my biological grandmother.  We spoke quickly and she gave me another number to call.  She took my address and promised to send me photographs.  We said our goodbyes and hung up.

Again, another phone call.  This time I prepared myself by taking a quick shot of Jamesons.  A woman answered.
"Is this Mary Hallesy?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.  I gave her my name and explained that I was adopted.  I gave her my birthday, "So," was all she replied.
"I was born Mary Alice Hallesy," I explained, trying to go as slow as I could.

It took a moment, for it to register.  She started to scream something about the baby being on the phone.  Someone she was calling Sissy.  I realized she was speaking about me.  I worked very hard on being pleasant, get what I need and be done with it.  I sat there and heard her talk, but I didn't listen to it, couldn't listen to it.  I was simply numb.  I did not know these people, did not want to know these people. I felt like the stranger I was, listening into the private ramblings of two mentally challenged people, which they were.  I eventually pried the information out of them.  My brothers were Jerry Mike and James Ray.   I promised to call again and to write.  I never had any intention of keeping those promises.

I again started my search.  This time would be tough.  My brothers had been put into the system, their names were probably changed, as mine was.  For all I knew they would have no memory of me.  I refused to let that sway me and started my search.

Six months later I got a call from my husband while I was at work.  There was a message on the answering machine from a woman in Illinois who worked with adoption cases.  I rushed home and called the woman.  She had been looking at the forum boards where i had posted my information and was touched by my case.  She went on to explain that searches like this cost quite a bit of money.  I told her I didn't care about that, I simply wanted to make sure that they were happy.  Apparently I had said the right thing.  She told me she was not going to charge me at all and that she had the information I needed.

My brothers had been adopted shortly after I had been.  They stayed together and she had the last known address for them.  She gave me the information.  She wished me good luck and rang off.

I sat there in shock.  This was the last of my search.  I held in my hand the final key.  I was petrified.

I waited until the next day, my day off.  I took a deep breath and called the number.  An answering machine picked up and a woman's voice spoke clearly that no one was home, but if you would like to speak to Diana, Mike or Jim, please leave a message.  I quickly hung up the phone.  What do you say? 

I took another deep breath and called it again.  I explained who I am, who I was, that I was adopted.  I gave my birthday and that I thought that Mike and Jim were my brothers.  If this was a possibility, please call me back.

Ok it sounded insane.  This woman probably was going to listen to the recording and think what a crack pot!

She called me back.

After putting me through the tenth degree, listening to my life story and how I came about my information, she finally declared that yes, Mike and Jim were my brothers.  However, she was uncertain if she would tell them about me or not.  I was hurt by this, tho she did explain that they were both handicapped and she was uncertain how they would take this news.    She promised to send me photos of them and I would send her some of myself.  She also asked for my parent's phone number because she would like to talk to them about it all as well.  I explained that as long as they were happy and loved, I was able to accept whatever decision she came to.

A few weeks passed and she did tell them.  I spoke to them on the phone.  Jim was hard to get to talk, he is very quiet.  Mike and I have the same voice and the same laugh and the same  love of the performing arts.  We all got together with my parents, and met.

They are part of my life now.  Jim and Mike are wonderful uncles to my little girl.  Diana is considered her grandmother as well.  We have missed over twenty-five years of each other.  We have a lot of catching up to do still.